Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Bring Them Home

by Rabbi
Pinchos Lipschutz

Sadly, it is a familiar
script.

We face the tragedies of
three sweet bochurim, and at the same time, we cannot help but feel the
isolation. Even as our people are consumed by concern, interrupting weddings,
graduations and gatherings to join in reciting Tehillim, embracing the Shabbos
earlier and with more focus than usual, and continually davening, the
apathy of the wider public and the mainstream media is a reminder of the
eternal truth of the posuk which states, “Hein am levodod yishkon.” We
are alone.

Any student of history or
intelligent observer of the world scene does not expect better and is not
surprised when the nations of the world join to once again condemn us for
having the temerity to be victims. Those experienced with global affairs don’t
even react anymore when they read how the United Nations terms the kidnapping “alleged”
and when Israel is condemned for showing single-minded dedication to bringing
its boys home.

When such things occur, we
should not be depressed. Instead, we should be heartened by the lessons found
in this week’s parsha.

This world and its
transitory values and flesh-and-blood leaders are temporary and will soon
vanish from the scene, to be replaced with yet other transitory people.

We live with a higher ideal:
“Zos chukas haTorah, adam ki yomus ba’ohel.” The people whose souls are
fused to the Torah throw off every physical mantle. They succeed by ignoring
realities that do not contribute to spiritual existence, and concentrate their
lives on Torah.

To succeed in our goal of
cleaving to Torah, we must disregard the current thinking of those around us
and stubbornly persist with ourTorah way of life, despite the many
detractors.

We are bound to the chok,
the bond of Torah living, which goes beyond reason and logic. To be attached to
Hashem means to be detached from the world and to recognize that it neither
accepts nor values us.

This is the explanation of
the first Rashi in this week’s parsha. Rashi quotes a Medrash
Tanchumah which says that the Soton and the nations of the world
mock us and ask us for the rationale of this mitzvah. Therefore, says Rashi,
the Torah spells out that Parah Adumah is a chok, a gezeirahmin haShomayim, and we are not permitted to question it.

The nations of the world,
and those who mock us and attempt to wrestle us from the path of our forefathers,
question us and our practices. They say that the mitzvos are backward
and without reason. We don’t answer them. We don’t try to explain it to them.
We reinforce to ourselves that we are following the word of Hashem,which
is a chok. This is the only way we are able to succeed and flourish in
this world of sheker.

Torah, the ultimate wisdom,
doesn’t operate with the conventional rules, the wisdom of university
classrooms and laboratories, but quite the opposite.

Crafting logical sales
pitches for the Torah will only do half a job. In the end, we must accept the chukim
as well as the mishpotim, recognizing that we work for a Master and that
alone is reason enough to follow each and every dictate and command.

Torah greatness and fidelity
aren’t born of brilliance, but of toil, purity and diligence. Rav Elazar
Menachem Man Shach zt”l would often quote from the seferSheim
Hagedolim, which says that before Rashi set out to write his
landmark peirush, he traveled extensively to ascertain whether a better peirush
than he envisioned existed. It was only after he was unable to find an extant
exposition explaining the Torah that he set out to write the classic peirush
that has endured until this day.

As Rashi wrote his
work, he fasted hundreds of taaneisim to ensure that his words would
help propel people to the truth.

Rav Shach would weep when he
would mention this about Rashi, because to him, this anecdote
represented all that is right and true about our mesorah. It underscores
the fact that chochmas haTorah isn’t about reason alone, but also about
humility coupled with commitment to the truth and mesorah.

People in our day are led
astray by those who claim to understand the reasoning for different halachos
and temper them to mesh with the times. Such thinking lies at the root of the
fallacy of the Conservative and Reform movements, which ultimately caused so
many to deviate from halacha and mesorah, leading millions of
Jews astray. It sounds funny to us that they maintain institutions they refer
to as yeshivos and have halachic decisors who write so-called teshuvos
in halacha. In their fanciful world, they believe that they are
legitimately following the Torah.

Once you begin to
rationalize the commandments and inject human understanding of them and their
concepts, you begin compromising them and sullying the holy with pedestrian
thought processes.

Their assumption that they
have mastered the Torah is their undoing. Critical thinking and analysis
lacking yiras Shomayim, a sense of mesorah and humility results in
individuals who destroy instead of build, obscure instead of reveal, and cause
others to repel Torah instead of drawing closer to it.

Our fellow Jews in the Open
Orthodoxy movement, who follow in the path of the founders of the
Conservatives, have fallen into this trap. Insistent as they are on being
termed Orthodox, we must never stop denying their claim, because, in fact, they
are notOrthodox in thought, practice, attitude or approach.

A story is told about a poor
couple about to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary. The wife decided
to treat her beloved husband by preparing a dish he always craved. Throughout
their marriage, they never had enough money to afford lamb stew. Now that they
had reached this great milestone, she was determined to find a way to prepare
this delicacy for her husband.

The resourceful woman went
to a library, found a good recipe, and wrote it down. She then set out to
gather the ingredients. When she arrived at the butcher shop, she decided that
lamb was too costly. She reasoned that it would be okay if she replaced the
lamb with much less expensive chicken necks. The recipe called for barley,
potatoes and carrots. Those were also too expensive, so she replaced them with
kasha. When she got home, she saw that she was missing many of the spices
necessary. She figured that if she uses plentiful amounts of salt, the stew
would taste just as good.

After expending much effort
in preparing the celebratory stew, she proudly placed the steaming dish before
her husband. He could barely contain himself in his desire to finally fulfill
his dream of eating lamb stew. He took one bite, and then another, and finally
offered his assessment. “I don’t know why rich people make such a big deal
about lamb stew,” he mused. “Now that I have finally tasted it, I see that it’s
nothing special.”

Friends, if it doesn’t have
lamb and it doesn’t have barley, chives, thyme, garlic and seasoning, then no
matter what you call it, it is not lamb stew.

These people lack the meat
and potatoes, and they lack the spice, yet they carry the name Orthodox and
refuse to let it go. They have the potential to inflict damage on the shuls
and schools that naively hire their members thinking that they are loyal to
Torah and mesorah. We must persist in calling them out as the impostors
that they are.

Rav Elchonon Wasserman zt”l
would explain the posuk in Tehillim (119:142) of “Tzidkoscha
tzedek le’olam” to mean that man cannot fathom the depths of Hashem’s
justice, for society and its concepts are ever changing. What is considered
just in one generation is viewed as unjust in the next. But “veSorascha emes,”
the truth of Torah is everlasting. It neither changes for the times nor
conforms to them.

Zos chukas haTorah. Torah is a chok. Torah is neither about impressive dissertations
nor social welfare and maintaining a good PR firm. It is about following the
will of the Creator as expressed in TorahSkebiksav and TorahShebaal Peh. That’s just the way it is.

When Rav Shach would deliver
a shiur in Ponovezh Yeshiva, he would pose a question and a storm of
responses would follow from the Ponovezher talmidim. He would address
them and then proceed with his shiur, sometimes incorporating what the bochurim
said into his shiur and other times shooting them down.

One day, he presented a
question that had caused him great angst in understanding a particular sugya.
The boys tried to answer the question in many different ways, but nothing that
any of them said pleased him. Consumed by the difficulty, he traveled to
Yerushalayim to pose his question to the Brisker Rov. The next day, Rav Shach
excitedly shared theRov’s answer in his shiur.

After the shiur, a
talmid went over to him and protested that he had given the very same
answer the day before,only to have it rejected. He wanted to know what
had changed and why the sevara was better today than yesterday.

“It is true that you said
the same p’shat as theRov,” Rav Shach explained, “but you took
it out of your keshene, yourpocket. The Rov’s answer came from
his vast knowledge accumulated by years of toiling in Torah. His response was
arrived at with authority, responsibility and clarity.”

Another time, Rav Shach
entered shiur armed with a penetrating question on a Baal Hamaor.
Suffering from vision problems at the time, he held up the Gemara in an
attempt to quote the words of the Rishon. As hard as he tried, and as
close as he brought the text to his eyes and struggled, he was unable to read
the small print of the Baal Hamaor. Sadly, he closed the Gemara, explaining
that he hoped his eyesight would improve sufficiently by the next day to be
able to read aloud the piece that he wished to comment on.

The next day, he entered the
bais medrash, happily holding the large Gemara, prepared to read
aloud the words of the Baal Hamaor that had failed him the previous day.
But first he asked a question: “How many of you looked up the Baal Hamaor
after yesterday’s shiur?” Nobody answered. “How many of you tried to
figure out the p’shat in what he says?” No answer. “How many of you
thought about the Baal Hamaor since yesterday?” No hands went up.

“Then forget it,” said the rosh
yeshiva. “Farges vegen dem. Ihr zeit dos nisht vert. If none of you
cared enough to look up the Baal Hamaor to figure out the question or to
attempt an answer, then you aren’t worthy of me standing here, straining to
read it to you and enrich you with the proper understanding of the Rishon
and the sugya.”

Rav Shach was an exceedingly
humble person, one of the most modest people of his generation. He didn’t make
that comment because his ego was hurt. He said it because he wanted to remind
the young talmidim that there is no success in Torah without struggle.
There is no growth without hard work, tilling and plowing in order for crops to
grow. Simply transcribing the teachings of a great man will not engender
greatness. If it comes easy, from a silver spoon, then it will not last. Effort
and travail strengthen and fortify us.

Perhaps this was part of the
klalah meted out to Adam and Chava after they ate from the Eitz
Hadaas. “You tried to obtain knowledge that is removed from you,” said
Hashem, “so from now on, bezeias apecha tochal lechem, everything good
you attain will be lost if it is not attained through the sweat of your brow.
Nothing will come easy. Be’itzavon teildi bonim. New life will be
preceded by terrible pain.”

Chazal say (Taanis 30, et
al), “Kol hamisabel al Yerushalayim zocheh veroeh besimchosah.” In order
to merit enjoying the rebuilding of Yerushalayim, you must first mourn its
destruction.

The fact that unity is
brought on by division was part of that curse. Yosef was sold into slavery by
his brothers. It was a terribly divisive act, but one that led to their
salvation in Mitzrayim. The Mitzriyim mistreated the Jews, plunging them to the
worst degrees of tumah. Hashem then freed them, fashioning them as His
people and gifting them the Torah.

Eis tzorah hee leYaakov. It is a dangerous time for our people. Terrorist havens
have been established in Iraq, Syria and Iran. Radical Islamists who seek our
destruction are on the march, gaining territory, adherents, military material
and much capital. The world’s greatest power is led by a man who doesn’t seem
to have our security and wellbeing high on his list of priorities. He created a
huge vacuum, pulling all American army personnel out of Iraq and drawing down
the army’s presence in Afghanistan, while providing no help for freedom-seekers
who want to topple Syrian dictator Bashar al-Assad.

While he continued the
previous administration’s search for Osama bin Laden and signed off on the
order to execute him, the president viewed killing him as decimating the terror
threat the al Qaida head represented. Obviously, while that may have worked as
an election campaign slogan, in the real world the bad guys are gaining
strength and spreading like wildfire. The specter of terrorism is as real as
ever, yet there is no overall strategy as to how to battle it or how to proceed
in Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Syria and Egypt.

Israel takes great pride in
its vaunted army, yet, for over a week, its members wandered through the West
Bank, trying desperately to find the three kidnapped boys and encountering dead
ends everywhere they turn. It’s clear that they need siyata diShmaya,
and we need to keep beseeching Heaven for their success.

An elderly chossid
once shared a precious vort which was passed down to him from previous
generations. When Jews suffer, he related, they say, “Oy, tzaros, things
are rough.” But that comment, “Oy, tzaros,” forms the word otzaros,
meaning treasure chests. The travails and suffering of our people contain a
repository of growth and blessing. From suffering comes joy, and out of
destruction emerges rebirth.

Since those bochurim
were captured, we have seen the depth of our achdus. We see that we are
indeed a people that dwells alone. But we are okay to be alone, because we are
united and have each other.

Let us open these otzaros,
these store-houses of riches, the newfound connection to each other, the new
intensity in tefillah, and the new sense of the ability of eachindividualto effect change through prayer. The kidnapping of the bochurim has
served as a catalyst to bring disparate people together as brothers and
appreciate being part of an am bodud. Let it not go to waste.

Hopefully, we
will rejoice united, a nation giving thanks as one for the safe return of our
sons and brothers. May the unity of these days be as enduring as the Torah we
live and learn.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

A Gorgeous Mosaic

Who didn’t feel their breath catch last Friday when
hearing about the kidnapping of three boys in Gush Etzion?

Whose heart didn’t skip a beat when they learned that
three teenagers trying to get to Yerushalayim for Shabbos were taken
hostage by Palestinian terrorists?

Ever since news of that awful tragedy spread, Jews around
the world put aside their differences and prayed for the safe return of the
victims. Tens of thousands gathered at the Kosel on Motzoei Shabbos
and Sunday night to daven for their welfare. Shuls and yeshivos
of all stripes around the world recited special tefillos for them.

Everyone was hoping for a safe resolution to the
kidnapping. Everyone wants to believe that we are living in an era when our
neighbors want to live in peace and have had enough of war and never-ending
gut-wrenching tragedy. Alas, this incident has been a sad reminder that until
the arrival of Moshiach, we will not know peace and stability.

This tragedy reminds us of the plight of former Israeli
chief rabbi Rav Yisroel Meir Lau, who, in 1945, at the age of eight, became the
youngest survivor of Buchenwald to be liberated by the Americans. Young Lulek,
all of fifty pounds, was brought to the town square by an American soldier, who
held the youngster aloft in one hand and said to the German people who had
supported the Nazi effort, “Is this whom you fought against? Is this what you
are all about?”

The Palestinians arouse for themselves world sympathy as
if they are a wronged people, desirous of peace and their legitimate rights.
Yet, they wage war against innocent children, wantonly kidnapping, killing,
bombing and maiming people.

We pray that the boys’ parents, siblings, friends and all
of Klal Yisroel be spared from further tragedy. As we carry their
anguish and the pain of their families, we are struck by the fact that it takes
a tragedy to remind us that we are brothers. Our internal squabbles raise
fences and enable the Soton to harm us. This lesson is always relevant,
but this week, with the parsha centered around the most famous machlokes
in our history, we are expected to draw the appropriate conclusion now more
than ever.

It is a common mistake to assume that all machlokes
is bad. In fact, the truth is that people have different opinions and
viewpoints. Chazal state, “Kesheim she’ein partzufeihem shoveh, kach
ein deioseihem shovos.”

If disagreement is a natural course of human behavior, how
are we to determine when machlokes is warranted and when it is wrong?

Chazal tell us that machlokes
lesheim Shomayim is praiseworthy. When a person, free of any agenda and
personal interest, approaches a topic with honesty and a desire to learn and
improve his status and that of the world, with subservience to the ratzon
Hashem, he is acting in a constructive manner.

When he has made up his mind, refuses to reason, and seeks
to do battle with the Torah and its authority, he engages in destructive action
and is to be condemned.

Thinking and intelligent people can differ, as long as they
maintain their focus on the same shared goal. If we welcome legitimate
questions and edifications, we can grow. If we share the same objective, then
we can agree to disagree and remain brothers and friends. Thus, machlokes
lesheim Shomayim sofah lehiskayeim. Disagreeing for the sake of Heaven and
doing battle for the improvement of Torah is laudatory and welcomed. The machlokes
of Hillel and Shamai is sofah lehiskayeim and is in fact a mitzvah,
because neither side sought to promote their own agenda. They argued to
ascertain and arrive at the truth of Torah.

Korach, however, utilized propaganda and demagoguery to
further a personal vendetta. He threw the entire nation into turmoil merely to
realize a personal ambition. A great and blessed man, he wasn’t satisfied with
his position in life. His goal was to embarrass and dethrone Moshe and Aharon.
He didn’t argue with them as a means of establishing the truth. His debate was
merely a means to his own selfish end. He was blinded by his jealousy of the
two brothers who redeemed the people fromMitzrayimand led them
through the midbar on their way to Eretz Yisroel.

The two most noble men of all time, selected byHashemto lead the people, were ridiculed and mocked for no reason other than the
fact that they stood in the way of Korach’s drive for power.

The parsha is as relevant today as ever before.
Each generation has those who lead, as did Moshe Rabbeinu, with a spark of
genuine Torah leadership. Sadly, as sure as there are leaders such as Moshe,
there is always resistance from people like Korach.

There have always been those who saw it as their mission
to rise up against gedolei Torah, seeking to minimize their greatness in
the eyes of the masses in order to promote a personal agenda. Leadership is a
tenuous position, requiring the leader to be respected and revered by the
community he leads so that they may follow him. He who is selfless and humble
is vulnerable to attacks by irresponsible, arrogant, aggressive wannabes.

The Torah tells us the story along with its ending. Moshe
and Aharon, without PR teams and advertising campaigns, won the battle with
authenticity, truth and the help of Hashem. They were neither removed from the
people nor out of touch and irrelevant.

Modern politics is all about portraying an image of being
relevant. Remaining in power means being able to reach the people and maintain
their confidence. Just last week, the second highest-ranking member of Congress
went down to shocking defeat in a local Virginia primary. He lost because he was
increasingly viewed by the people he served as being inauthentic and more
interested in his own personal advancement than the needs of those who put him
in power.

People are fed up with the status quo, having the same
people in power seemingly forever, dictating their futures and ruling without
care for the government’s impact on the lives of their constituents.

People want financial security and a chance to advance.
They want to be left alone and permitted to lawfully lead their lives in peace
without being dictated by individuals safely ensconced in positions of power.

They want people who will help them, who will listen to
them, and who really care about them. They want a positive, bright future for
themselves and their children. They want opportunity, good schools, solid
education, fairness and justice. They want bullies to be punished, molesters to
be put away, victims healed, and every child, smart and not, given a chance to
make something of themselves.

They want good and decent leaders whom they can respect
and emulate. Instead, all too often, their deep desire for potent leadership is
cynically manipulated by ambitious sycophants who substitute spurious hyperbole
for authentic, sincere principle. They cause division and wreak havoc as they
sow discord among the unsuspecting, causing them to doubt and lose faith and
trust in their leaders and themselves.

Gedolim belong to the people. They don’t look over their
shoulders to ensure that they have the crowds. They love Hashem, His
Torah, and His children. They are approachable and sensitive, because they
really do care. They operate on a higher plane and answer to a higher
authority.

In 1973, there were contentious elections for the
positions of Israeli chief rabbi. After Ashkenazic Chief Rabbi Shlomo Goren
made it clear that political calculations would take precedence over halacha,
the Torah leadership decided to act. Rav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv, Rav Betzalel
Zolty and others tapped Rav Ovadia Yosef to run for the position of Sephardic
chief rabbi and thus save the rabbanut from a hostile take-over. At an
emergency meeting in Rav Elyashiv’s sukkah, the relatively young Chacham
Ovadiah was informed that he had been selected as a candidate. He was hesitant.
With the government and authorities lined up behind the other candidate, there
was virtually no chance that he could emerge victorious. Only two weeks
remained before the election, yet, in deference to Rav Elyashiv, Chacham
Ovadiah agreed and announced his candidacy.

Chacham Ovadiah continued his schedule of shiurim
and writing teshuvos, refusing to hit the campaign trail. When askonim
informed him that he didn’t seem to have many votes from the members of the
voting committee, he famously replied, “I only need one vote, that of Hakadosh
Boruch Hu.”

His surprise victory proved the truth of his pithy
rejoinder. The million people who mourned at his levayah served as a
reminder that it really is that one vote that renders a man a leader of the
masses.

Torah leadership doesn’t put itself first. When it is each
man for himself, no one wins. When everyone wants to lead, no one can.

The Gemara says that upon witnessing six hundred
thousand Jews gathered in one place, there is a brochah, Boruch
Chacham Harozim, to be recited. The very same brochah is said upon
seeing a gadol b’Yisroel, because he possesses respect and appreciation
for the differing viewpoints of all those many Jews (Brachos 58). A gadol’s
heart is vast enough to encompass it all.

The Moshe Rabbeinu of the generation canlead a
productive society when every person recognizes that they play a distinct role
in Yahadus and is happy with what they can contribute. Thus, people lead
satisfied lives and the community can develop and flourish under a genuine
leader.

A dynamic rebbi, Rabbi Binyomin Aisenstark of
Montreal (son of the respected Chinuch Roundtable panelist and veteran
principal) received a phone call this year just before Shavuos. On the
line was a Brooklyn mother. She introduced herself and shared her story.

She told him that she had a son who is a wonderful young
boy, but, as sometimes happens, his charms were lost on the school he attended.
He seemed to be in constant trouble and struggled with his schoolwork. His
parents were at a loss as to how to bring out the best in him.

Last year, a young boy wrote a suggestion to the Yated
Readers Write column. He thought it would be nice if, over Shavuos,
children everywhere would commit to learning in memory of the kedoshim
killed during the Second World War. He had a goal of generating six million
seconds of limud haTorah and was looking for partners. He provided his
phone number and asked for people interested in joining him to call.

Rabbi Aisenstark read the letter and thought that it would
be a nice project for his second-graders to undertake. He called the number
printed in the Yated and told the young originator of the plan that he
and his class would join, specifying how much time they would commit to. The
young innovator wrote down their commitment and thanked the rebbi.

Shavuos came and went. Rabbi Aisenstark and his class fulfilled
their allotted time. The school-year ended and a new one began.

The mother continued her tale. It was her son who had
written that letter to the editor. The sweet boy did not finish the school last
year on a good note and the administration suggested that it was time to move
on. Perhaps he would do better in a different school, they said. With heavy
hearts, this woman and her husband set out to find the right school for their
son.

“Now,” the mother said as she concluded her story, “Shavuos
is imminent again and my son is approaching the end of the best year of his
life. He thrived in the new school, becoming the boy we knew he really was all
along. And,” she said to Rabbi Aisenstark, “he owes it all to you and your
phone call.”

The boy had sent his letter to the Yated at a
difficult time in his young life and the fact that it was printed thrilled him.
When someone actually called him and took it seriously, he was exhilarated.
Rabbi Aisenstark provided him with a sense of self-worth by reacting to his
idea with excitement. The phone call he placed invested the boy with
confidence, serving as a springboard to propel him onward into the new school
year. With Hashem’s help, he succeeded.

Every person has his own unique contribution to make. As
Korach rightly said, “Kol ha’eidah kulam kedoshim.” Every individual is
holy. Where Korach erred was his attempt to reach where he didn’t belong.

Each plant has its own diet, with the proper amount of
sunlight and water it requires. Similarly, every Jew has an area in which they
can flower, prosper and contribute to the betterment of mankind.

Klal Yisroel is like a luscious landscape, loaded with various plants
and flowers. There are tall and mighty trees alongside willowy shrubbery. There
are tall grasses and short, flowering bushes and evergreens, side by side. Each
one is different, but together they form a remarkable tapestry.

The best antidote to machlokes is appreciating the fact
that every person is different and has his or her own unique role to play.
Jealousy has no place in a society where everyone appreciates their position
and accomplishments. Unity is achieved when we all work together, cohesively,
for each other’s betterment.

We all seek to
welcome peace into our homes, our neighborhoods and the wider community. We
recognize that shalom is the secret to brochah. If we remain
united, seeking to cure superficial division and to battle those who seek to
undermine us and our values, we will merit rejoicing as all are released from
the captivity of golus. We will then sing the song of all those released
from imprisonment, “Hamakom yeracheim aleihem, veyotzieim mitzarah lirvochah
umei’afeilah le’orah umishibud legeulah, as we are all led back, beshuv
Hashem es shivas Tziyon, hashtah ba’agalah uvizman koriv.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

A Stanza in a Poem

by
Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

Shavuos is a day that celebrates the receipt of the Torah and its
centrality in our lives. But it also celebrates the eternity of our people.
Despite all the present adversity and everything our people have suffered
throughout the millennia, we are still around and will be forever. Despite the
current battles with the same old, tired arguments, some clad in modern garb
and expressed with current slang, the fact that the people of the Torah are
eternal is proven daily.

I had the special zechus
of spending the Yom Tov in Yerushalayim, where I attended a family simcha.
Being there rejuvenated me. How?

Walk with me down a quiet
side-street atop the Geulah neighborhood, through a small courtyard, and,
suddenly, as in so many spots around the holiest city on earth, time seems to
stand still.

It is this place that is referred
to in Kabbalistic literature as
“Pischa Dekarta,” literally translated as “the door to the city.” The
site is referred to in Gemara Sanhedrin (98), the Zohar in ParshasShelach, and the seferYahel Ohr (Parshas Shelach)
from the Vilna Gaonas being the spiritual home of Moshiach ben Yosef.

In another era, the elevated
grassy knoll was the first location Jews being oleh regel to
Yerushalayim would be able to see the makom haMikdosh from.

Talmidim of the Vilna Gaon would conduct tefillos there,
particularly on leil Shabbos. The community would rent space from the
Arab owner and engage in limud hanistar at the mystical location. In 1812, the group joined with Sefardicmekubolim
and erected a large tent, referred to as “Ohel Moshiach ben Yosef.”
Then, about 120 years ago, they managed to purchase the area. They erected a
more permanent tent, where they would gather and daven for Moshiach ben Yosef to overcome those who stop him from his
mission and that he be speedily dispatched to fulfill it.

That structure stood for
seventy years and then, mysteriously, fell out of use. Over time, tzaddikim
would sometimes stand there in secluded prayer, especially in times of danger, Rachmana
litzlan.

When I had the merit of
being in Yerushalayim last week, I decided to daven at this hallowed
spot. It was an otherworldly feeling to be standing in prayer at a holy site
integrally tied to the ultimate geulah, where great tzaddikim prayed
for so many years, yet to be there alone, in complete solitude.

It was, in a sense, a
microcosm of the golus itself: holy spots, holy stones, holy pathways
waiting for their redemption, a city pining for her people to merit the
great awakening. All over, there are yechidim, lone souls, struggling to
usher in a better, happier time.

The geulah is so
close, so attainable, even though it sometimes seems so far.

On the flight returning to
America, while contemplating the greatness of a city and its inhabitants, I
recalled the words of the Chiddushei Harim, who explains the posuk
we recited in Hallel on Shavuos: “Hashomayim shomayim laHashem
veha’aretz nosan livnei odom.” The Ribbono Shel Olam has the
entirety of the celestial spheres, which are His holy realm. He gave us the
earth, so that we might invest it with holiness. Our job is to take the aretz
and make it shomayimdik.

In the city selected by
Hashem, one sees how a kehillah, in our day and age, has taken a few
miles and invested them with the sanctity of the Divine.

Despite all the adversity,
despite the resistance and tension, despite the fact that their choices subject
them to ridicule and scorn, the people of Yerushalayim, in their role as
the am haTorah, stand tall and proud.

Tova ha’aretz me’od me’od.

To me, Yerushalayimis
more than a geographical location, a dot on a map representing a city where
people live and work. It’s a dimension beyond time and space, the embodiment of
thousands of years of yearning and hope. To me, Yerushalayim is poetry. To walk
its streets is to be a stanza in that poem.

Observing its citizens,
young and old, as they go about their daily chores, you find yourself wishing
for a camera capable of capturing the special aura on their faces. Their emunah
and bitachon are plainly evident. People who live in tiny cramped
apartments, with bare refrigerators and few physical comforts smile and radiate
a contented glow.

The temperature on Shavuos
day was an oppressive 97 degrees. One of our relatives who came to visit on Yom
Tov Sheini Shel Goluyos, mentioned matter-of-factly that there was no air
conditioning in her apartment and not even a fan. She said it with a broad
smile and without any air of martyrdom or self-pity. When I mentioned that I
would be happy to buy her a few fans, she responded that they don’t have room
in the apartment.

She, and her family, exude
serenity and contentment, without fans or creature comforts. The source of
their joy has little to do with the pleasures of this world.

Rather than an exception,
this is the rule in that splendid city.

Reb Bentzion Oiring, whose
name might be familiar to you from some of our appeals on his behalf over the
years, came by to visit along with his wife and children. These destitute
people seem perfectly satisfied. You see their wide smiles, their amiable
natures, their easy camaraderie with others and with each other, and you marvel
at their normalness. Then you notice that the wife is missing her front teeth
because a visit to the dentist is a luxury that simply doesn’t fit into their
budget.

A visit to that city and an
honest look at the people remind you that the reality facing the Yerushalayimer
Yidden is far different than ours. It makes you realize that when a YerushalmiYid comes knocking on your door, you shouldn’t view him as just another
person in a long line of people who disturb your peace, but as an ambassador
from a world where heaven touches earth. It is a city of overwhelmed fathers, carrying
the burdens of wives without teeth, good women charged with feeding families
after they’ve exhausted the makolet bills and the proprietor’s patience.
They live in cramped apartments with no room for electric fans, and yet they
smile, offering spirited thanks and praise as they daven in Zichron
Moshe and the many other shtiblach and shuls that dot the holy
streets.

The davening… Oh the
davening! Every Shacharis, Minchah and Maariv is
different. It isn’t the length of time that makes their tefillos different.
Sometimes they daven quite quickly. It’s the intensity and genuine
passion. There is nothing official, stilted and staged. You hear tefillos
that emanate from deep within the Jewish soul and the people’s complete faith
in the power of the words - and the Master to whom they are directed - is
evident. Formality is admirable, but the vitality one feels there is so
uplifting.

There are few experiences
as spiritually elevating as joining the massive crowd of Jews, joined by
nothing other than the commonality of their neshamos, descending on the Kosel
in time for vosikin on Shavuos morning. Just as on any other day,
they come like hungry children surrounding their mother’s table for breakfast;
desperate, focused and entirely certain that their tefillos will be
welcomed. You watch the first rays of the rising sun penetrate the sky and
paint the ancient stones a soft orange and you feel enwrapped by the presence
of the Shechinah, which has never departed.

To stroll along the streets
that have been tread by so many giants, knowing that you are fulfilling a mitzvah
with each daled amos you traverse, is to allow your feet to be pulled by
your soul and to feel at home. The reward received for the performance of the mitzvah
is immediate, as you become uplifted breathing the avira d’ara.

On Shabbos and Yom
Tov, children play in the street without a care in the world, and you can’t
help but be swept along with their youthful optimism, blissful joy, charm and
delight.

Even the shopkeepers are
different. I happened to meet a friend in a small Geulah shop. During the
course of conversation, I mentioned that I had been to visit Rav Yaakov
Edelstein in Ramat Hasharon.

The young Sefardi
man shared his tale. One evening, Rav Edelstein left a wedding and mistakenly
entered a car he thought was that of his driver. After sitting down in the
passenger seat and turning his head to say hello to his nahag, he
realized, to his dismay, that the driver was not the person he expected it to
be, but was, rather, a young woman. He quickly said, “Selichah,” and
exited the vehicle.

The girl’s friend who
witnessed the episode told her that she had the zechus of having a big tzaddik
in her car, albeit for a moment and by mistake. “His name is Rav Yaakov
Edelstein and you should ask him for a brochah.”

The next day, the girl
called the rov and introduced herself as the accidental driver. “I am
the girl whose car you mistakenly entered last night. I would like a brochah
for a shidduch.” The rov responded with an assurance that she
would be engaged within a month.

The shopkeeper concluded
his story. “A month later she was engaged. To me.”

The good people of
Yerushalayim hearten us and embolden us to face our own challenges. We so often
hear tales of woe and prophecies of doom. There is way too much sadness in our
community. Too many poor people. Too many sick people. Too many lonely people.
People who were abused. Children who aren’t given a chance. Awful winds of
dissension, extremism, injustice, negativity and cynicism are blowing, and
there are people working to destroy our religion and way of life.

Bnei Tzion yogilu bemalkom. The people of Yerushalayim are a reminder that we must
forge on with spirit and verve. We must not become meyuash. We must
remain positive and battle that which confronts us, working to remedy that
which ails us.

Let us not attach undue
import to the spiteful words that appear in the New York Times and
secular Jewish organs chastising an individual like the Novominsker Rebbe. We
need to be confident and strong, proud that we have leaders courageous enough
to speak the truth. It is surprising that people still expect respect and fair
treatment from our secular brethren and are upset when our faith in them is
proven misplaced. They are the ones with an agenda to undermine and weaken our
authentic faith, while the Rebbe has no agenda, other than to share and spread
the Torah’s truth.

We cannot hide our heads in
the sand and ignore the danger they represent. They have veered far from the
course charted at Sinai. Some are affected by their saccharine words and
express self-doubt and a lack of confidence in our ability to battle and
overcome them.

We, however, are heartened
that we are no longer alone in our crusade against the Open Orthodox, their
small school, and their growing influence and acceptance as legitimate Orthodox
Jews. We welcome the prominent voices being added to our call that they not be
recognized as Orthodox, and that their beliefs, teachings, writings and
practices have regrettably removed them from the ranks of observant Jewry and
placed them in the same category as the Conservative and Reform deviationist
groups.

We don’t need anyone to preach
to us or the Novominsker Rebbe: a man who lives not for honor, power or wealth,
but to learn Torah,serve his Maker and guide his people.

And in this we take heart.

You look at the landmarks
of Yerushalayim- the Kosel, site of the ultimate churban,yet with stirrings of so much binyan just under the surface; and the
newly re-erected Churvah shul, with its history of rising and falling -
and you realize that setbacks force greater resilience and stamina; but are not
permanent. Those who tormented us are gone and forgotten. Torah and the life it
provides remain as vibrant as ever.

You visit the great men of
that country, giants such as the recently departed Rav Zundel Kroizer zt”l
and, ybl”c, Rav Chaim Kanievsky shlit”a, who gives the clarity of
the Urim Vetumim to our generation. The New York Times and the Forward
can write as they please. Ours is a community producing people capable of
transcending human limitations, climbing the heights of spiritual greatness. We
have among us living portrayals of mivchar ha’anushi and nothing that
anyone says about us can dispute that fact. We all have the ability to be holy
and great.

Perhaps we derive this
lesson from the posuk (Tehillim 125:1) which states, “Habotchim
baHashem, people of faith, kehar Tzion lo yimot, as the mountains
surrounding Yerushalayim stand,” reminding us that those chosen by Him endure. Bitachon,
conviction and courage in these trying times, comes from that city and the
mountains surrounding it.

I had the opportunity to
speak to a son of Rav Zundel Kroizer, who shared with me a letter written by
his father. Rav Zundel had lived in Lugano, Switzerland, for a short time, and
he wrote a loving note to his granddaughter on the occasion of her bas mitzvah.

He described his
surroundings to the young girl, the majestic snow-capped mountains glistening
pure white. “May your life,” the loving zaide wrote, “be pure and clean
as the snow.” When a car ventures out in this pristine snow without proper
chains on the tires, he continued, the vehicle will spin and spin, but make no
progress. “In order for you to successfully traverse the channel that is life,
you must remember to remain chained to the traditions of your parents and
grandparents,” the tzaddik concluded.

We carry a rich mesorah,
and it fuels us to reach higher and battle on.

We are so close to the end,
yet still so far. There is a chasm we must bridge.

While in Yerushalayim, I
noticed signs advertising organized buses to the kever of Rav Ovadiah
M’Bartenurah in honor of his yahrtzeit. The site was described as being
four minutes from the Kosel.

As I was leaving the Kosel,
I asked a taxi driver to take me there. The Rav, as he is known, is the rebbi
of any Yid who ever learned Mishnayos properly, so I wanted to
take advantage of the time to daven at his kever, something I had
never done before.

Following the paper signs
that were posted for the occasion, we made our way down a steep mountain. At
the end of the road, down in a deep valley, was the cave said to be the final
resting place of the RavM’Bartenurah.

We recited some Tehillim
and tefillos together with the few people who were there. Just as we
were ready to leave, others came running back, fear in their eyes. “Zorkim
avanim. Zorkim!You can’t leave. The Arabs are throwing stones.” A
hail of stones of all sizes poured down from high above us. We quickly returned
to the safety of the kever area and police were called. After a long
wait, they finally arrived once the stones had stopped falling. We left.

It was a bittersweet taste,
so close yet so far. We were at the kever of our rebbi, yet under
threat of harm. The Bartenurah’s storied letters to his father tell the tale of
his arduous journey to Yerushalayim and of the hardships he endured so that he
can live between the mountains of Tzion. He merited writing a peirush
that illuminates each and every Mishnah, the result of his travails and
efforts.

Let his lesson inspire us
as well.

I was traveling in a car
with Radio Kol Chai playing in the background when I heard the voice of my dear
friend, Rabbi Eliezer Sorotzkin. It was the evening before Shavuos and
the station was reporting that a group of totally secular teenage boys with
whom Lev L’Achim volunteers began learning Gemara was brought to
Yeshivas Mir Brachfeld to see a yeshiva for the first time in their
lives.

Rabbi Sorotzkin was asked
how his organization was withstanding the constant propaganda and governmental
battles against religion. How, he was asked, are they impacting the work of Lev
L’Achim? He answered that the only difference is that there is a sharp increase
in the number of questions secular people ask Lev L’Achim volunteers who seek
to educate them in Torah. Once the answers are provided and the truth is laid
out, the people are as receptive as ever to the eternal message from Sinai.

Yes, there are problems, many
problems, some of them unprecedented, but we must know that aloh na’aleh,
we are on the ascendancy, and we will emerge victorious in the end if we stand
together with strength, pride and unity.

This week, we read the parsha
of the meraglim, who sinned by speaking ill of Eretz Yisroel. They,
much like many today, saw Am Yisroel’s enemies as being too large and
too powerful to overcome. Intimidated, they displayed a lack of faith.

Kalev sought to reassure
our forefathers and mothers, telling them, “Aloh na’aleh…ki yachol nuchal
lah” (13:30). Do not become dejected, he said. Do not fall for the messages
of the naysayers and don’t pay attention to those who mock the word of Hashem.
We will triumph. We will beat back our enemies, and those whose belief inHashemis unchallenged will enter the Promised Land.

His words resound through
the ages, rallying us today as well. There were those who doubted their own
abilities to merit Eretz Yisroel. Today, we look at that country as a source of
inspiration, its cobblestone alleyways, dusty paths and glorious buildings
encouraging us to stand tall and proud.

Like it, the land bound up with our
collective soul since before time, we will triumph. Aloh na’aleh,
speedily in our days.